Wolf's Dawn
by zoedigz13
Summary: Adaia Tabris is in an impossible situation, one that may tear her world apart. With the birth of her baby upon her, she'll have to decide her path - stay with the man she loves or sacrifice happiness for duty. Every choice comes with a price. This companion story to "Together We Are Stronger Than One" includes the DA cast, adult content, and AU elements.


**A/N** - _This story is set in the Zoyaverse, before the events of Together We Are Stronger Than One. Chapters 14 and 15 of Together include Duncan's memories of the events leading up to this story, and Chapter 20 of Together includes Duncan's memories of Zoya's birth. As always, thank you to Eve Hawke for being an awesome beta!_

Adaia watched the amulet swing lazily over her swollen belly. As the iridescent stone reflected the lamplight, she wondered if she should offer a prayer. But to whom and for what? Given her current situation, it was likely the only deity paying her any mind was Fen'Harel, and he was probably delighted by the mess she was now in. She loosed a heavy sigh as the amulet tugged downward, cold against her skin.

A serene voice soothed over her, _Why do you persist? You know the answer to the question already._

"This is the third time we've done this! And the fourth kind of test we've performed. The result has been the same every time. Couple that with your lack of recent intimacy with anyone but Duncan and the Taint in your unborn child's blood, and there's no denying the answer." Fiona leaned back against the wooden wall of the aravel, her hands clasped behind her head. "You should be happy. You're about to bear the man you love a child that neither of you thought was possible."

Pushing herself upright on the bunk, Adaia propped herself against the smooth wood of the aravel's shell and shifted her hands to rest on her stomach. Would the acrobatics of her unborn child ever cease to amaze her?

_You should be happy. She is full of life. _If spirits could smile, Adaia was sure Anya would be doing so.

Her heart clenched as she thought of Duncan, his large, callused hands cupping her belly and his face full of wonder as the baby shifted under them. "You of all people should understand, Fiona. It's because I love him that this is breaking my heart." The tears burned hot behind her eyes.

Marethari set the amulet on the table, "I do not understand why you despair for Duncan, lethallan. I am certain he will be happy about this news." The elf's face twisted into a frown. "You should be worrying about your child and yourself. With an elf-blooded child… well, neither of your lives will be easy."

"Do you think I'm not aware of the consequences of bearing an elf-blooded child, Marethari?" Adaia scowled at the Keeper, "Duncan will initially be happy that he's going to be a father, but he'll be forced to choose between staying with the Grey Wardens or staying with his daughter and I. And that will tear him apart."

The spirit's composure when she spoke was infuriating. _The human will choose you and his child over his duty. You know this to be true. And you know you cannot allow that to happen._

Adaia's jaw clenched, _Yes, I know. We've already discussed this, Anya! Now kindly stay out of it!_ Sometimes the spirit didn't know when to stay quiet, and this was one of those times.

Marethari's gaze shifted between Adaia and Fiona, and she shook her head, "Why would the human need to choose? Surely the Wardens allow members of their order to bear children?"

"Our duty to the Wardens forces us to choose." Fiona's face paled, "Most Wardens have their children before the Joining. When we join the order, we give up our former lives, our loves, to focus on the greater good. It's through our sacrifice that we keep the darkspawn threat at bay. And then there's the Taint. We're told that it makes having children nearly impossible.

A wry grin twisted Adaia's face, "Your order might want to reconsider their thoughts on Warden procreation – there are two of us in this aravel that have proven it's not as impossible as they say."

The Warden ran her fingers roughly through her hair as she leaned forward, anchoring her elbows on her knees. "I've long suspected that there are those in the order who already know, who let this misinformation be shared to ensure more children will be born with a resistance to the darkspawn corruption. There are few women in our order, and other than myself, none that I know of have born children after the Joining. But our order _is_ full of young, virile men. In other nations, villages have grown near Warden strongholds that cater to the _needs_ of members of our order. How many bastard children have been born in these villages that have inherited a natural resistance to the corruption? How many of these children would eventually be corrupted or recruited into the order? When there is no Blight, fewer are recruited or corrupted. With each surviving generation, that resistance would be carried on, a ready population of recruits near Warden strongholds that can serve in the next Blight. I've seen far too many genealogies in the archives that document bloodlines that are littered with Wardens to not suspect-"

Marethari interrupted Fiona with an impatient gesture, "As interesting as your conspiracy theories may be, the issue at hand is _this_ child." She turned to Adaia, her mouth a tight line. "It seems to me that Duncan made his choice to set aside his duties to the Wardens months ago when he brought you here. He has stayed in the camp by your side, has won the grudging respect of our hunters and scouts, and has even gained the admiration of Hahren Paivel. He has done all of this to ensure a home for his family among the clan-"

"You know as well as I that the clan won't tolerate a human and an elf-blooded among them for long." Adaia sighed, "And I can't return to the Denerim Alienage, not with a human child. Cyrion is a kind man, but even he has limits. It's one thing to know you're being cuckolded, but it's another thing entirely to have irrefutable proof of it staring you in the face every day."

"What will you do, lethallan?" Marethari wrapped her fingers around Adaia's hand, "Your time is nearing, and you will need to decide your path soon."

Fiona avoided Adaia's eyes, her voice rough, "I hate to suggest it, but you could give the baby to the Chantry. They wouldn't know she's elf-blooded, and they're always happy to take in foundlings. She'll be safe and well cared for."

Adaia's heart clenched, "No… I'll not abandon her. And I'll not take her from Duncan. And what if she has magic – I'd be condemning her to a life in the Circle." She shook her head roughly before locking eyes with the Warden, "You can't honestly tell me that you don't regret the choice you made to give away your son, Fiona-"

"Don't you dare bring him into this!" The Warden slammed a hand against the little table, sending the stoneware jumping. "You, of all people, know how hard it was for me to give him up – that I had no other option."

A frown cut across Adaia's face, "And I also know that Maric begged you to stay with him, to raise your son together, so you did have other options. You still could -"

Fiona's face pinched with remembered pain, and she took a deep breath. "As much as I wanted to live that fantasy, it was never really an option. Maric is the king. How would it look for him to move his mistress and his bastard son into the palace, an apostate elf who is part of the reviled Grey Wardens and her elf-blooded child? Maric would never be able to acknowledge him. The Landsmeet would never allow it. They'd force him to choose. And Ferelden needs him – his duty is clear, as is mine."

An uncomfortable silence settled over the women, dragging out until Fiona cleared her throat. "So what then? You'll encourage Duncan to leave the Wardens? For that is what he'll have to do if he wants to keep his little family intact. And you know what the witch told Maric in the Wilds so many years ago – a Blight will come to Ferelden during his lifetime. It's only because of Maric's belief in that prophesy and Duncan's tireless work that there are Wardens in Ferelden at all."

"No, I can't encourage him to leave the Wardens." Adaia rubbed a weary hand across her eyes, "They need Duncan as much as he needs them. He's already restless with his need to return to duty."

"You've no options left that I can see." Fiona leaned back and crossed her arms. "You won't give the child up or take her from Duncan. You don't want him to leave the Wardens. And you don't think you can stay in the Alienage or with the clan. What's left?"

Adaia shook her head, her hands soothing over her belly. "I don't know, yet. But for now, I'd appreciate you both keeping quiet about this to Duncan. I need some time to consider all possible options."

Fiona rose to her feet, striding toward the aravel's door. She paused with her hand on the handle, a frown creasing her brow as she turned back to Adaia. "You better figure it out quickly. Once Duncan lays eyes on his little girl, I suspect any decisions will be made for you…"

~oOo~

Adaia loosed a sigh as she heard the approaching footsteps, the arrow flying free with her frustrated exhalation. Not bothering to turn and see who it was, she drew another arrow, angling the bow to avoid her swollen belly. She knew she should feel guilty – everyone was eager to tell her how wonderful being pregnant was as they rubbed her stomach – but lately all she could think about was having her body back to normal.

Duncan's voice rumbled behind her, "Is it safe to approach or should I wait until you put the bow down? I'd hate to get the tongue lashing you gave Ashalle or find myself at the pointy end of one of your arrows."

"Keep it up, and you will." Loosing another arrow, she spun on the human, nearly losing her balance. "You and Marethari probably deserve it more than Ashalle – I'm guessing she was just following your orders." She lowered herself onto a nearby log, "I just can't take this sitting around and waiting anymore." At an amused chuckle from Duncan, her hand darted out to smack him, but he deftly shifted out of the way. "You know what I mean! I'm pregnant, not mortally injured! I don't need to be kept prisoner. I know what I can and can't do – trust me, my body lets me know pretty fast."

He regarded her with a raised eyebrow. "Do I need to remind you what happened the last time you left the camp?"

Adaia glared at him, "If you do, you'll find my boot planted in a very sensitive place." She felt herself bristling. It wasn't a big deal - people slip on loose shale, and sometimes they have a hard time getting back up. Everything would have been fine if Ashalle hadn't run back to Duncan in a panic. Once he'd stopped laughing at her, the chastising had begun.

Ever the logical one, Anya chimed in. _The human was right to do so. You are being reckless and selfish, child._

Adaia nearly growled in frustration. _Fasta vass! They made a far bigger deal out of it than they needed to –the baby and I were fine! Now leave me be, spirit!_

"Alright, alright!" Duncan lifted his hands in surrender, "What will it take to break you out of this foul mood?"

"Tell the hunters and scouts to let me leave the camp." Adaia tried to cross her arms, but quickly gave up when they just ended up resting awkwardly on top of her belly.

"You know they won't listen to me." Duncan offered a lopsided grin, "What if I sneak you out of camp for a bit? I found some interesting ruins not too far from here. We can make a day of it – a little exploration, maybe a swim and some lunch-"

"Oh Maker, yes!" If she thought she wouldn't fall over, she would have leapt up to kiss him. "Can we leave now?"

"Your wish is my command." He chuckled as he dangled a small pack between them. "I didn't think you'd object, so I pulled everything together that I thought we'd need. We can go whenever you're ready."

She stretched out a hand, letting him pull her to her feet, "I can't even tell you how ready I am."

His fingers twined with hers as they left the camp, following trails that were blissfully smooth and level. She'd never admit it, especially to Duncan, but the extra pregnancy weight threw off her center of gravity and made her joints ache. Lately, just walking up and down the aravel's ramp was exhausting. Her growing resentment for her new lack of mobility burned in her gut. Duncan shortened his stride to match her awkward waddle without comment, and she loved him for it.

When they reached a log across the path, Duncan lifted her up and over like she was a small child. She sighed in frustration, "Marethari doesn't think it'll be much longer. I can't wait to have my body back - I feel like I've been pregnant forever."

He grinned at her "I don't know… I've been enjoying having you mostly to myself for the last several months. When the baby comes, I'll have to share." His eyes searched hers, "Aren't you at all nervous about it at all?"

"It seems to me that you've been having enough nightmares about it for the both of us. With three healers, what could possibly go wrong." For the last fortnight, Duncan's sleep had been more restless than usual. He'd mumble and thrash, jerking awake in a cold sweat, and then he'd cling to her with quiet desperation as he drifted back into sleep. But they never spoke of it afterwards, just as they never spoke of the nightmares that left Adaia twitching night after night. She chewed her lip, "I'm more nervous about what it'll be like after – to have this little person completely dependent on me. What if I'm a horrible mother? It's not like I have any examples to draw from."

"You'll be a wonderful mother. I've never known anyone who was more gentle or compassionate." Duncan stopped to push aside the lush vegetation along the trail, gesturing for her to pass through the opening. "And don't forget - I'll be there to help."

"Aww… thanks. You're a terrible liar, you know." She offered a wry grin, "But I'll remember your offer to help. You can take care of the middle of the night feedings and change her nappies..." As she emerged into a small clearing, the beauty of the place stole her breath. Flowering vines crawled along the intricately carved stone, their faces reaching for the warm summer sun. Bumble bees hovered lazily over the fragrant blooms, their buzzing filling her ears. She weaved through the granite chunks to gently draw the vines back from a statue so she could see the inscriptions. "I think you'd make a better mother. You've had more practice with those children you call Wardens." She tossed a wink over her shoulder.

He shook his head, trying to stop a grin from appearing but not succeeding. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Those Wardens are like a well-honed weapon, the model of skill and discipline for all Wardens throughout Thedas…"

Adaia chuckled, "Sure… you keep telling yourself that." She reached up to rest her hand against the statue's face, "I think this is a temple of some sort. And this statue… it almost looks one of old statues of the elven gods… maybe Mythal? Are there any tunnels?"

"Maker, no! I picked these ruins specifically for their lack of tunnels." He offered a wry grin, "Do you recognize the inscriptions?"

Her brow furrowed, "It _looks_ like ancient Tevene, but I don't recognize any of the words – just like the others we've seen." She walked the perimeter of the ruins, Duncan pushing back vines and brush so she could peer at the carved stone. "So much history has been lost, and there's so much we may never understand. Who lived here and what happened to them? Did elves and humans live and worship together peacefully among these old stones? I could wander ruins like this for the rest of my life and not learn the answers."

Adaia propped herself against a collapsed column, her fingers tracing absently over the delicate scrollwork. Her eyes slipped shut and she tipped her head back to fully feel the sun on her face. Sure, _now_ Anya was quiet. After Adaia and Duncan had encountered similar ruins early in their adventuring, she'd pressed Anya for answers, but the spirit had only expressed disinterest in discussing such relics. But then Anya had never shown any interest in things from the past. Her concerns were focused on the now and the future, not that she was very forthcoming about things to come.

"Are you getting hungry?" Adaia opened her eyes to find Duncan's gaze fixed on her, "On the other side of those columns is a small lake. The water is so clear you can see the bottom-"

"Mmm… you didn't happen to pack some soap in that pack, did you?" The thought of a bath led to thoughts of Duncan's hands on her; a sudden need for him ignited at her center.

He offered a soft smile as he bowed, extending a hand. Her fingers wrapped around his, and he pulled her close. "You even need to ask?" He raised her hand to his lips before turning and tugging her behind him.

They slipped through the brush into marsh grasses that were taller than Adaia. She was unprepared for the lovely scene that greeted her once they were clear of the vegetation. The sun reflected off the still, silvery water. A small crescent of dark sand marked the shore, surrounded by an undulating green wall of grasses and cattails. The heat of it seeped through the soft soles of her boots. Duncan knelt before her, grinning up at her roguishly. Her fingers clutched at his broad shoulders as he peeled the boots from her feet.

A contented sigh escaped her lips as aching toes wiggled in the warmth. His smile widened and dark eyes watched her as he unlaced her breeches, slowing sliding them down her legs and lifting her feet to free them. Callused hands ran back up the outside of her legs, catching the hem of her tunic and dragging it over her head.

Their gazes locked as his hands cupped her swollen belly. He leaned forward to nuzzle the pale skin, leaving a trail of gentle kisses as rose to his feet. Each one fluttered through her, fanning her need for him. Growling softly as her fingers tangled in his hair, she tugged him close, her lips hungry against his.

His mouth shifted into a grin under hers, "Someone's feisty today…"

Adaia's hands stole under Duncan's shirt, her fingertips tracing over hard muscle and old scars. Her voice was little more than a throaty whisper as she tugged the fabric upward. "She's been more acrobatic than usual today…"

"I wasn't talking about the baby." He peeled the garment off as her deft fingers moved to the laces of his breeches. But they were quickly stilled by the strange sensation of warmth flooding down her legs.

She held her breath as her hand stole down to her thighs, coming away wet. "Umm… Duncan? We need to stop – to head back to camp…"

His lips moved against her neck, his voice gruff, "And things were just getting good… Are you sure-"

She tried to keep calm. But as the first labor pain hit, she clutched at him, her knees threatening to buckle. "Venhadis! Duncan – it's time!"

~oOo~

The little aravel had never been such a welcome sight. Duncan swept her into their quarters, laying her gently on the bed. She'd never seen him look so panicked; his swarthy skin was ashen and his bloodless lips pressed into a firm line. "I'll be fine, Duncan." Another contraction started to grip her, and she clenched her fingers on the blankets as she tried to keep her face neutral, "You better get Marethari and Fiona."

His head bobbed nervously, and he bent to kiss her forehead before dashing back out the door. She curled up her side, pressing her face into the blankets to stifle her cries as a band of pain tightened around her belly.

Anya's voice was a cold whisper in her ears, _It will only complicate matters if he is here for the birth. You must send him away._

_Now isn't the time, Anya. _She sucked air between her teeth, forcing herself to breath through her suffering. _What aren't you telling me, spirit? _The grinding of her teeth echoed in Adaia's ears. _Why should I keep him away? I need him here!_

The spirit's voice was annoyingly calm. _No. You want him here. His presence is not required for this. You will find a way to make him leave._

The door opened, and the tiny aravel was suddenly filled to bursting, three elven women and Duncan hovering over her. He slid onto the bed, brushing hair back from her face. "Do you need anything? What can I do to help you?"

She shook her head, a ragged cry tearing free as another contraction gripped her. Duncan cringed as her fingers seized his. "The pains… they're coming too fast." Hot tears welled in her eyes, "You need to go."

"What?" A frown knitted his brow. "Adaia, I want to be here for you, help you through this."

Her voice rasped between clenched teeth, "No! I don't want you to see me like this-"

"I'm not going to see anything I haven't seen before." He offered a lopsided grin, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.

She looked to the other women for help, but they avoided her gaze, busying themselves with preparing for the baby's arrival. "This… it's something you haven't seen. Trust me – there are some things you can't unsee. And I know you – it'll make you crazy that there is nothing you can do to help me."

"You sound just like Fiona did when her time came." He stroked her hair, "I'll just stay by your head like I did with her, prop you up-"

"Vishanti caevas!" Shaking with pain, her breath came in gasping pants. "Please…" She lifted a hand to stroke his cheek, "Duncan, I beg you. Don't argue with me about this…"

Fiona sank onto the bed opposite Duncan, her magic soothing over Adaia. "It'll be alright, Duncan. We'll take good care of them."

Adaia's heart clenched as she watched him. A frown tugged at his lips, sadness darkening his eyes. "If that's what you really want…" He rose reluctantly to his feet.

Tears burned behind her eyes. _No! What I want is for you to stay with me, to feel your arms wrapped around me._ "Duncan…" Adaia reached out to clutch his hand, swallowing hard to fight past the lump in her throat. "Kiss me…"

His hand tightened around hers as he lowered himself back to the bed. Pressing her cheek against his palm, the tears fell free. His thumb tenderly brushed them away, "Are you sure?" He sighed when she nodded, bending his head to brush his lips against hers. His voice was gruff when he spoke, resting his forehead against hers, "I won't go far – just yell if you need me." His lips found hers again, "I love you, Adaia."

"I love you too, Duncan." He stood to leave, and she reluctantly released his hand. Struggling against the urge to call out to him, to beg him not to go, she only watched in silence as his shoulders slumped and he walked out the door.

The spirit's voice wrapped around her, _Everything will be fine, child. Your brief period of separation will be soon be forgotten. There will be only joy for you both as you hold your daughter in your arms. But those blissful moments cannot happen unless we focus on bringing her into your world._

Adaia whimpered as pain shuddered through her, _We? Are you suggesting you're somehow taking part in this?_

_My dear child, I have been helping you from the start…_

Adaia's eyes slid open as the contraction eased. One small pair of hands pressed into her lower back and another pair pressed against her thighs. Marethari's voice was as calm as the spirit's had been, "Your daughter is certainly in a hurry, Adaia. How long have you been having labor pains?"

"Not long at all. My water broke and they started. Duncan ran the whole way back here."

"Then Sylaise favors you." She shook her head and offered a soft smile, "It is a good thing he returned here so quickly. I can already see the baby's head. We need to shift you into a better position for pushing. I had hoped we would have Duncan here to support you. Fiona, you will have to do it."

_I'd hoped to have him here, too. _"So soon?" Bile rose, and Adaia hoped she wouldn't be sick. _Maker! I don't think I can do this!_

_As I said, everything will be fine_, the spirit soothed.

Fiona helped Adaia up and led her to the foot of the bed where Ashalle had created a small nest of blankets. Her face twisted into a wry smile as she perched at the end of the bed. "Where was this Sylaise when I had my son? My labor lasted a full day and well into the night."

"I remember all too well." Adaia had been convinced that Fiona's baby would never come. They'd done what they could to speed things along - she and Duncan had paced the tunnels with her, soaked her in a tub of heated water, and massaged her back until their hands ached – but it was like the babe hadn't wanted to leave the womb. Adaia's daughter was showing no such reluctance. She gripped Ashalle's hands as she squatted, her arms coming to rest on the tops of Fiona's thighs to support some of her weight. "I hope that means my baby will be smaller."

"You better hope that's the case. But then you've apparently been _blessed_, so I wouldn't worry about it too much." Fiona chuckled.

Adaia sucked in a noisy breath as the next contraction came, a sound that was echoed by Fiona as her fingertips dug into the Warden's legs. "Merde! Maybe we should switch places, Marethari."

"I doubt your time with the Wardens has led to you delivering many babies. I believe this arrangement is the best for all of us." Marethari's voice was full of encouragement as she refocused her attention on Adaia, "You will need to bear down, lethallan."

"I don't think I can." A sob caught in Adaia's throat. _I need Duncan here. Maker! Why did I send him away?_

_You sent him away because you know that is what needed to be done_, the spirit spoke in a matter-of-fact tone.

Adaia ground her teeth. _I sent him away because I was stupid enough to listen to you!_

_When have I ever led you astray, child? Now let us bring your daughter into the world so you may be reunited with your love._ Anya's voice wrapped around her like a warm embrace.

"I have no doubt you can do it, lethallan." Marethari cupped Adaia's face, "It is time – your little girl is ready to be born. On the next contraction you will need to push."

As the next contraction seized her, Adaia did as she was told, pushing with every bit of strength she had. The words tore free, her voice hoarse, "Festis bei umo canavarum!" No one had ever told her that delivering this baby would leave her feeling like she was being ripped in half.

The memory came unbidden of delivering Fiona's child, of the elf's screams echoing through the tunnels under the Alienage. She'd been arrogant enough to tell the woman to breath through the pain. "Fiona – I'm so sorry-" The tearful words devolved into a harsh cry as flesh and bone seemed to give way for the baby's passage.

The spirit's tone was gentle, _Do not focus on the pain, child. Think of your lover… hear his voice in your ear, feel his hands on your skin, feel the safety of his arms-_

_Venhedis! I wouldn't have to imagine it if you hadn't convinced me to send him away._ Tears slid down Adaia's cheeks. _Duncan, I need you…_

Marethari's calm voice broke through her thoughts, "Her head is free. Rest until the next contraction. We are almost there."

Her voice was ragged in her ears, "No! I need to push. Please, let me push again…"

She bore down before the elder elf could tell her no, a guttural groan ripping free from her lips. As quickly as the searing pain reached its apex, threatening to drag her into dark depths, it gave way to a strange sense of relief and then emptiness. Her legs collapsed beneath her, Fiona's support the only thing keeping her from becoming a shivering pile of elf on the floor of the aravel.

Adaia was only vaguely aware of Ashalle moving in as Marethari shifted back, of one final contraction gripping her, of Fiona gently pulling her onto the bed, of Fiona's magic shimmering over her. Every part of her was waiting, her ears straining to hear any sign of life from her daughter – even Anya remained quiet.

Marethari was strangely silent as she rubbed at the baby with a blanket, her head bowed as her magic slipped over the child. At the sudden sound of the infant's wailing, the tight band around Adaia's heart released. "Is she alright?"

The Keeper swaddled the baby, her expression enigmatic. She waited until Fiona had shifted Adaia back onto the bed, propping her against the pillows. Settling the infant into her waiting arms, she offered a soft smile. "She is fine, lethallan. You have no need to worry."

Adaia's heart swelled as she gazed down at the little pink face, pressing her lips against the red down covering her head. "She's so tiny!" She brushed a finger against the round nose and cheeks, the pouty rosebud lips, and the…. delicately pointed ears.

The air in the aravel seemed to disappear, and she fought the urge to gasp for breath, "I don't understand… everything indicated Duncan is the father-"

"There is no question who the father of this child is." Marethari gave her a stern look. "But I had not considered the possibility that she would be born looking like an elf."

"That makes no sense! The elf-blooded look human! I've seen it time and again." Adaia gaped at the infant, confusion making her head spin. How many human children had been born to her fellow elven slaves? And every time, the mistress would come, take one look at the thick, black hair and rounded ears that marked them as the master's offspring, and leave with the babe bundled in a blanket. The wails of the young women, knowing they would never see their children again, echoed in her ears-

_It does you no good to relive such things, child. Leave it in the past where it belongs. You must realize that you have not seen all there is in this world. You have accepted many things as truth without having seen them for yourself._ This was as close to chastising as Adaia had ever heard from the spirit.

"And I have seen elf-blooded children who look like elves." Marethari shook her head, "But it is not spoken of openly. We hold the elf-blooded separate in the hopes of keeping our blood from being further diluted, taking comfort in the knowledge that the elf-blooded are easily identified since they look no different than their human parent. But imagine what would happen if the truth of this became commonly known, if we couldn't trust that our elven mates were truly elven?"

Fiona nodded in agreement, "It would be no different from how magic or the Grey Warden resistance to darkspawn corruption gets passed along. It may not occur in every child, or even every generation, but once in the bloodline, it can always show itself." She exhaled noisily, "I saw Duncan's lineage in the archives at Weisshaupt. It was incomplete, going back only two generations on his mother's side. I thought it was strange – the Chantry is normally meticulous about keeping such records for humans. Perhaps the untraced line was elven?"

Anya chimed in, _This is the solution to your problems, child. You can tell the human that the child is your husband's and return to the Alienage._

Fiona lowered herself into a chair, "I hate to point it out, but those pointy ears may be a blessing for once. She can pass as an elf – you can take her back to the Alienage or stay with the Dalish. No one need ever know she's elf-blooded…" She offered a sheepish look, "Or that she's Duncan's child."

"She cannot lie to the man, Fiona!" Marethari brushed gentle fingers over the baby's downy head, "You and the child will always have a home among this clan so long as I am Keeper." The woman's brow furrowed, "But as much as I regret saying it, there would have to be some conditions. The child being elf-blooded would have to remain a secret, and she cannot be allowed to take a mate, or at least cannot be allowed to bear children."

Adaia sighed, "Marethari is right - I can't lie to Duncan. Yet, the best choice for my daughter is clear." She took a deep breath, turning to Ashalle, who was trying to disappear into the background. "Could you please bring Duncan here? Oh, and Ashalle? I don't want you to share any of what you've seen or heard here with him."

She returned the elf's nod, bending her head to kiss the baby's little ears.

_Good. Now you see the truth of what I have been telling you for months._ The spirit almost sounded smug.

As soon as Ashalle shut the door behind her, Adaia's gaze shifted between Marethari and Fiona. "As soon as I'm able to travel, my daughter and I will be returning to the Alienage where I'll raise her as an elf. I've no doubt that Cyrion will accept this child as his own and give her a stable and loving home."

Fiona ran fingers through her hair as she nodded, "That does seem to be the best option. Let her be raised without the stigma of being elf-blooded, avoid tearing apart our culture with the idea that the elf-blooded aren't always born human, avoid attracting Warden interest in a corruption-resistant child-"

"And what about Duncan?" Marethari glowered at the two elves, "Do you actually think he will abandon his child so another man can raise her?"

"I don't think he'll question it." Adaia shushed the squirming infant, slipping a tender breast free from her tunic and encouraging the babe to latch on. "He'll take one look at her, see the pointed ears, and assume Cyrion is the father. If I know Duncan as well as I think I do, he'll never question me about her parentage. Once she's old enough, I'll tell them both the truth."

Marethari pressed her palms against the wooden table, her head bowed. "Consider his feelings, his rights as the father, Adaia! He deserves to know that this child is his. Both he and his daughter should be told the truth! What will you do if he decides to leave you, never knowing that she's his daughter?"

"For what it's worth, I think you're doing the right thing." Fiona turned to Marethari, "And are you blind? Have you not seen how Duncan is with Adaia? Can you really see him leaving her? I've known him for a long time. We've survived some terrible things together, and I can tell you that Duncan will treat this child as his own whether he thinks she is or not." She turned back to Adaia, "And this way, you're not forcing him to choose between duty and family. He can focus on Warden business knowing that you and the baby are safe and well cared for."

Marethari threw her hands up in the air, spinning on her heel and striding towards the aravel's threshold. She shook with barely restrained fury as she yanked the door open, "You're wrong in this, Adaia! I hope you change your mind before it's too late…"

Adaia's gaze shifted over the elf's shoulder, settling on Duncan standing there with his hand still extended toward the door's latch. Marethari paled, her lips clamping down into a firm line as her eyes locked on Duncan.

His expression was sheepish as his eyes shifted between the three elves, "I get the feeling I'm interrupting…" Confusion twisted his face into a frown as Marethari looked away, pushing past him and down the aravel's ramp without a word. Worry shadowed his face as his gaze locked on Adaia and the infant in her arms. "Is everything… is the baby… Andraste's flaming ass – say something!"

Fiona rolled her eyes, "Everything's fine, Duncan. As if anything could go wrong with three healers here…" Her gaze flitted between Duncan, Adaia, and the baby as she rose from the chair and moved toward the door. She paused to squeeze his shoulder, "I think I'll step out for some air. Yell for me if you need anything."

Adaia offered the woman a small nod of thanks, her gaze settling briefly on Duncan before turning her attention to the swaddled infant tucked into her slender arms. A smile tugged at her lips, her heart swelling, as she regarded her daughter.

Duncan moved to the bed, settling himself next to Adaia and brushing a red tendril back from her cheek. "So how are you really feeling?"

"I'm fine, just tired." She bowed her head, brushing her lips across the crimson down on the round, little head. "And so is the baby. Do you want to hold her?" She looked up at him, her love for him flooding her and threatening to send tears spilling down her cheeks.

He swallowed hard, nodding as he reached out to take the bundle of blankets, chuckling nervously, "The last baby I held wasn't nearly this small." Duncan shifted the squirming infant in his hands. "She's so feisty!" Tucking her into the crook of his arm, his hand drifted over the infant's fingers and toes.

"They're all there – I already counted." Adaia offered him a soft smile.

He ducked his head, an embarrassed grin tugging at his lips. His hand continued its gentle exploration, brushing reverently over her nose and cheeks. Adaia saw him tense as his finger traced the edge of her ears, and she held her breath.

Duncan's eyes slid shut, his jaw clenching. The baby started squalling, her legs and arms flailing as if in response to his obvious inner conflict. Adaia fought the urge to not reach out to take her daughter back, a sudden protectiveness prickling over her. A disappointed frown twisted Duncan's face, and his hands clenched and twitched in the blanket swaddling the child. Cold fear slithered over her – could he actually be considering leaving? Her throat clenched as tears sprung forth. The very thought of continuing on without him left an emptiness in her belly that threatened to swallow her whole.

Swallowing hard, he opened his eyes and gazed down at the howling baby. He took a deep breath, his face relaxing as he exhaled and his eyes slid shut again. Shifting his hold on the infant to cradle her against his chest, he ducked his head to nuzzle her soft cheek. "Welcome to the world, little one. No need to fret – I'm not going anywhere. I made a promise - I'll always be here for you." He whispered into the tiny ear as she quieted.

Freeing a hand from the baby, he reached out to Adaia, his callused fingers cupping her cheek. "She's perfect, almost as beautiful as her mother."

Adaia's eyes filled with grateful tears, and she wrapped her fingers around his, pressing her lips against his palm. "I love you, Duncan." She followed the soft words by brushing her lips gently against his. With a contented sigh, she snuggled into him.

"I love you too, Adaia," he breathed.

It felt peaceful, being here in the aravel, tucking herself between his arm and side with the infant curled into the crook of his other arm. For the time being, they were a little family, and she intended to enjoy it as much as she could. He kissed the top of her head before placing a similar kiss on the baby's. His voice rumbled in his chest as his fingers stroked her hair, "Have you chosen a name?"

As her eyes started to slip shut, she draped her arm across Duncan's chest, her slender fingers stroking the baby's face before shifting to twine in his hair. Adaia had known what the child's name would be since the first moment she'd felt the new life within her. Duncan had shared many stories of his mother's mother, a Rivaini seer. From what he'd shared, she was a wise and powerful woman with a love for wine and song and bit of a wicked tongue. And, perhaps most importantly, Duncan had loved her beyond reason. "Zoya… her name is Zoya…"


End file.
